Mood: Apprehensive.
Music: Bomb Massive, DJ Goo
Game: World of Warcraft (60 Rogue, 13 Priest)
Book: On The Road, Jack Kerouac.
Muffin: Strawberry-Raspberry (Warm!)
Punchline: Nothing's funny today.
I saw Constantine last night.
I recommend it. But probably not for the reasons you might think. Forget the action and effects. Kind of hard to do, but forget that. Forget Keanu Reeves' delivery and presence...which is much easier to forget. Rachel Weisz, normally sexy and bright is kind of drab and sleepwalks through this, so it's not that. Forget the stereotypical views of Hell, which are pretty, and well done...because you've seen 'em before. The whole post-apocalyptic world view, completely on fire, and so on. Thematically and storywise, fun, a bit predictable...especially if you're even remotely a fan of Neil Gaiman. No...there's a different reason why I really liked this.
The minor characters in this movie are brilliant. Amazing casting, beautifully acted and directed. Gorgeous costuming. I'm not a huge fan of spoilers, so I'll say this: When Gabriel was on the screen, my eyes were riveted to the angel. Positively an amazing interpretation of an angel. And Lucifer was done brilliantly...if a bit on the overdone side. Midnight as the neutral, also really, really well done. Constantine's "assistants" (The drunken priest, the recluse librarian kook, and the sidekick kid who wants to get his hands dirty.) These were all characters that had depth and beauty immediately...the exposition was deftly handled, and their dialogue nicely crafted. It all sort of made me wonder why the two main characters were not as well-balanced, nor deep enough. Acting? Perhaps. Don't know...but I was willing to overlook the main characters and story to enjoy the world in which it was set. The neo-gothic look and feel didn't hurt, either.
While this may not sound like a rave review, it really sort of was...in its own way. I thoroughly enjoyed watching the world revolve around Reeves and Weisz.
Anyway, I'd see it if you have some spare time...
Mood: Snowy.
Music: Extreme Ways, Moby
Game: World of Warcraft (60 Rogue...12 Priest?)
Book: On The Road, Jack Kerouac.
Muffin: Apple-Raspberry.
Punchline: Hmmm...
As you've probably noticed, and probably don't overly care, I've reached level 60 with my rogue in World of Warcraft.
If you don't know anything about WoW, 60th is as high as ya go. There is no more levelling. No amount of exploring, questing, or killing will gain you more experience.
In other, non-MMORPG, games, this would mean that the game's over, and you won. But not a massively multiplayer online roleplaying game! No! Here's where the fun begins.
While I no longer gain experience, no longer boost my skills, there is still plenty to explore, plenty of quests to complete, more things to do and see...and of course, more phat lewts to raid.
Now, the game shifts from a rush to gain experience, and turns into a game of coordination with other players, planning, and tactically assaulting the tougher, more rewarding encounters of the game. It also opens up a whole new world of PvP...since you're at the top of the foodchain, you're now the Apache Helicopters of the battle of Horde vs. Alliance. Imagine my glee when I showed up to a battle where a bunch of level 20-25 Horde were being attacked repeatedly by some level 35-40 Alliance fools...and the cry went up "NOW we got 'em..." whereupon I fell on the Alliance attackers and promptly dispatched 4 of them, wounding 3 others that the rest of the Horde players killed. Welcome to Shock and Awe.
Anyway, there are a few high-level instance dungeons that I'm dying to try. An instance dungeon is basically a dungeon that's "spawned" just for you and your party...no one else goes into it while you're in it. I really, really want to get into Scholomance, because apparently there's a vendor in there that sells blacksmithing patterns that I really want.
The point of all this is that even though I've levelled up as far as I'm going to, there's still plenty for me to do, and I'm still excited about doing it. This is pretty cool to me. Additionally, I really want to help my Guildmates get up to 60 fast, so we can all do the same stuff together...and that's fun too.
I guess it's a Instancing Weekend...maybe.
Mood: Pretty good.
Music: Everything is Everything, Lauryn Hill
Game: World of Warcraft (60 Rogue...12 Priest?)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: Blackberry-Mango.
Punchline: "And no, you can't have your fucking convention in New York next time. Fuck off."
So my fookus got me a gift certificate for iTunes for Valentines Day.
I was pretty happy about it...and actually still am.
My problem? I'm vaguely afraid to spend it.
There's nothing I want to run right out and buy...but when I browse, I hear a song...and I'm all "Ooh...I like that..." But then I hear the clip, remember the song, and then I don't really want to buy it. Because then I'll have LESS money on account at iTunes! Not worth having!
It's weird. When I don't think about it, I could probably easily spend a bunch of money. But now that I have the money, I don't know what I want to buy.
So I'll leave it to you all. Each person here should leave a comment with ONE song I should buy on iTunes.
If I own the song already, I will mention it. I will not reject any suggestion...and let's be fair, folks. Please make it something you like...not just find bizarre ways to spend Glenn's gift certificate.
If you think I'll enjoy something that I don't usually listen to, or think there's a glaring hole in my collection, feel free to throw it up here!
In a few days, I'll buy the music, and listen away!
Get to it!
Mood: Pain.
Music: Never Can Say Goodbye, Communards
Game: World of Warcraft (60 Rogue...12 Priest?)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: Peach-Raspberry.
Punchline: "These are definitely *not* bugs." (Fulci, on getting rushed by rhino-like creatures when he was told to expect insects.)
My head is pounding. Woke up with one of those "Holy shit I can't see" headaches. I have a pretty good idea what's causing it.
I quit drinking Diet Coke.
I stopped when I realized that I was going through over 36 cans a week. That's not an exaggeration, by the way. I was buying three 12-packs a week, and drinking them all. That doesn't include whatever Diet Coke I was drinking at lunch, or during the day at work.
I understand that you can't just drop caffeine cold turkey. This isn't a newsflash to me. I'm trying to replace it with tea for now...which, for obvious reasons, I can't just chug.
It also isn't helping that the weather around here isn't great, and my sinuses are acting up. I've always had bad sinuses. They aren't getting any better as I get older. I also strongly suspect that spending three years after the destruction of the World Trade Center living not even 4 blocks away from the place didn't help my respiratory system in the slightest. Hell, they were still putting out fires when I moved down there. Could smell the smoke for months.
Anyway, staring at a monitor all day at work (when I probably need glasses), coming home and staring at a monitor some more, cutting off my caffeine and aspertame, and throw in the changing weather? I am a very unhappy camper.
Occasionally I feel like I want to take a small drill or very large hypodermic syringe and suck out whatever's causing that pressure. I know it can't ACTUALLY be done...but it FEELS like it could, you know?
In response, I have taken 2 Tylenol, 2 Tylenol Sinus, and I am drinking tea (Ginger Peach) as fast as I can without burning my tongue (having failed in this already, in any case.)
I'm sure you're all fascinated in regards to this, so I've re-enabled commenting. I've missed your fabulous comments, and should immediately comment on this post, commiserating with my inability to see at this point.
More when the gremlins get out of my head with the jackhammers.
Mood: Sad.
Music: Give Blood, Pete Townshend
Game: World of Warcrack. (Rogue 60...and that's a wrap!)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: Strawberry-Blackberry.
Punchline: "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."
I was going to write about making level 60, and then I was gonna put something in about some of the guys from ijsmp starting blogs of their own...but then...
If you hadn't heard yet, Hunter S. Thompson killed himself on Sunday. Going out in true Duke style, he shot himself in the head with a .45 pistol.
I can't exactly explain to you how much HST meant to me developmentally, not just as a writer, but as a person. I feel that my style of writing comes directly from Thompson. I'll put up some articles I wrote for Gamertagdatabase.com...which they've since taken down because they're now run by a bunch of tasteless heathens. (I still love 'em...but it doesn't mean that they aren't tasteless heathens.)
Curiously, I came to reading Thompson via Doonesbury. My mother was/is a huge Garry Trudeau fan, and as a result, I was exposed to it at a very early age. At that point, Vietnam was still going on, and Thompson was in his prime. Trudeau put a character in his strip named "Uncle Duke"...being Zonker Harris' uncle. Duke went on to go to China, become the governor of Samoa (making his nephew Zonker Lt. Governor), and did all manner of very Thompsonlike things...including looking exactly like him.
I was so intrigued with this character, that I picked up Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. And the rest, as they say, is history.
What can be said about Fear and Loathing that hasn't been said a million times by writers, critics, and journalists? Thompson didn't break through the objective third wall of journalism...he blew a huge gaping hole in it with an M1 tank, and rode, drunk and drugged through it, cackling madly the entire time. Bill Murray, who remained a friend of Thompson's until his death, played Thompson in "Where the Buffalo Roam", Hollywood's first crack and Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. Johnny Depp played Thompson in, you guessed it, "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas"(Terry Gilliam directing!) Depp also remained friends with Thompson until his death, and, in fact, delivered Thompson's eulogy of Allen Ginsberg at Ginsberg's funeral, as Thompson was too ill to attend. Apparently, the audience was in stitches.
Thompson was unquestionably larger than life...his huge fascination with living life, taking massive quantities of drugs and alcohol, sports (Richard Nixon agreed to be interviewed by Thompson when Thompson promised only to ask the former president questions about Football), owning and firing huge weapons, and making everyone laugh along the way. Everyone who came in contact with him, no matter how famous, apparently came away from him a lifelong friend and supporter.
Thompson taught me many things...that being radical was OK. That being a non-conformist wasn't just acceptable...it was fun, and important. He was incredibly successful...but he was successful HIS way. He missed deadlines, he sent in scraps of paper with scrawl on it as stories, he ran up enormous expense bills with nothing to show for it. In short, he was living life the way he wanted.
While no comment was made as to why he might have taken his own life, it was known that he had been in poor health over the last few years, and in a fair amount of pain. His son Juan was quoted as saying that he and his mother know it was a suicide, and that settles it.
In a way, blogging is all because of Thompson. Ignore the technical and the internet phenomenon...but the way that bloggers immerse themselves in their own lives and share it with an audience who, with greater or lesser interest, looks on with involved fascination. Subjective journalism. Showing the world by living in it.
Good night, Hunter. Thanks for everything.
"We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the drugs began to take hold."
Mood: I'll get back to you on this...I'm not sure.
Music: Crazy Little Thing Called Love, Queen
Game: World of Warcrack. (Rogue 58)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: None...I didn't want a banana-blueberry muffin.
Punchline: "It is my sad duty to announce that because a solution has not yet been attained, it is no longer practical to conduct even an abbreviated season. Accordingly, I have no choice but to announce the formal cancellation of play."
In spite of the fact that the NHL season really probably ended the moment they announced the lockout in September, yesterday still bothered me a great deal. I suppose it's not unlike being in a relationship that can't succeed, knowing it can't, and still being pissed when you break up.
I am pretty upset about the whole thing, really. Hockey has always been the thread that ran through my life, tying together years...remembering when things occurred with my life by who was playing on the Rangers that year.
Remembering where I was during that whole Stanley Cup run...taking every last penny out of my bank account to buy a scalped ticket...being in the building when Messier hoisted the cup over his head. Calling my mother in tears...missing my father more than ever. Meeting my cousin outside the Garden and hustling down to Hop Kee to celebrate. The mounted cops outside the Garden, expecting the riots that never came. Pandemonium in Penn Station...people glued to TVs in all the bars...you could hear the shouting from the Garden all the way in Penn Station. People weren't going anywhere, even as I ran down the back stairs.
Years of waiting.
Section 341, Row C, Seats 7-8. My season tickets. Been there for years now...except I won't be going back. Ever.
The great folks all around me...the nice people behind me who brought me homemade cookies, and commiserated over all those horrific teams. Dressing as blind referees for Halloween. The folks to the left, all those guys, bringing a variety of girlfriends over the years. The creative acquisition of the Section 341 signs every season. Watching the kids in front of us grow up over several years...getting big! The folks in the seats...electricians, plumbers, accountants, shopkeepers, teachers. Celebrating high school graduations...college selections. Passing off tickets that you couldn't use so that a parent could take both kids instead of just one this time. Recalling with dismay all the former 50 goal scorers that the Rangers had that then became not even 20 goal scorers when they got here. Remembering Greg Gilbert was on the Stanley Cup team. Watching Messier become the 2nd leading scorer in NHL history...by scoring twice in a game. Watching Messier against the Sabres on that last game, banging in that goal from his spot, and celebrating...the Garden chanting his name for minutes, standing ovation...knowing that we probably saw his last goal ever. It didn't matter that the Rangers lost that game. Messier coming out to center ice after the game, bowing to the four corners of the Garden crowd, who, if anything, were even more deafening than when they raised Richter's number to the rafters that season. The Sabres tapping their sticks on the ice in applause for probably one of the greatest players in NHL history. Belonging to a group of people, 18,200 of 'em every game, who yelled, screamed, cheered, complained, sighed, shook their heads in disgust, or cried in triumph.
How do you do this to fans? Fans can tolerate bad play, bad players, lousy coaching, expensive concessions, an old building, poor ice, an ownership team that is so stupid it's criminal, expansion teams that can't even skate backwards, increased ticket prices...but we can't tolerate you keeping the game from us.
Unforgivable.
The papers say that when hockey comes back, the fans will come back. Maybe they will.
I paid them in advance for my season tickets, unable to prevent myself...knowing that there might not be a season...but emotionally unable to believe that. Except that they took me for granted.
All the apologies in the world will not make up for the level of betrayal and disappointment I'm feeling right now. Taking something like this away from me, something that defines who I am, can only result in me being very, very angry. And I am.
Forget owners, players, Gary Fucking Bettman...I am pissed at a group of people who, for some unknown reason, think that their sport revolves around them. They are wrong...and I think there's a generally sick feeling among them, like they were a bunch of kids playing with a grenade, and someone just pulled a pin accidentally.
Sure. A lot of fans will return...because they love the sport, and you can't keep them away from it. Right now, I'm way too pissed and upset to even consider going back.
I probably will. Who am I kidding...? But isn't that the real crime here? That they can get away with this because I DO love this sport as much as I do? If I didn't, they could never risk such a cancellation, right?
But it won't be soon.
And can someone do me a favor? Please tell the fucking sports media who thinks they know what the fuck they're talking about in regards to Hockey to just shut the fuck up already? You're fucking clueless.
Yes, we care the season's been cancelled. Yes, we think it's both sides' fault. Yes, we'll watch hockey again when it comes back. Yes, we know players like Yzerman, Lemieux, and Messier may never play again.
It's not our fault you have no idea what the sport is about. Go write about your make believe Patriot "dynasty" and some made up feud between Trot Nixon and Alex Rodriguez. Who gives a fuck? If this stuff had happened a few weeks ago, you wouldn't have even reported it. You were too busy wondering if Terrell Owens was going to start in the Superbowl.
I have a question...what will EA NHL 2006 be like? A box with no disk in it? And a manual that blames you for it not being there?
Now leave me to my headache and my videotapes of old Rangers games.
Mood: Pissed.
Music: Friday I'm in Love, The Cure
Game: World of Warcrack. (Rogue 58)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: None! They were closed this morning!
Punchline: "It depends on if we can get the Union pricks off our backs and if those assholes at Home Depot ever deliver the fucking sheetrock!"
OK...starting yesterday afternoon, some prick decided to release a spambot against my blog.
I have no idea what makes my blog such an attractive target to these morons...I really don't. But it pisses me off to no end. I don't like spending my bandwidth on some asshole who somehow believes hijacking my site to post, no shit, 50 links to a site about online poker will somehow get him traffic from here. I refuse to allow these people to steal my bandwidth, and pester all of you.
Consequently, until I sort out a little quirk that seems to prevent registration/validation of users to work, I have shut off comments.
It really pisses me off that I have to do this...because, frankly, I love getting comments from all of you. But I cannot spend hours cleaning these spam entries out of my comment log. So until this guy has stopped, or I've figured out a way to keep this guy away from my blog, I'll just have to rely on you commenting to me in other ways.
In other annoying news, Gary Bettman will be getting on a podium at 1pm (about 10-15 minutes!) to announce the future of the NHL season. Frankly, I am not going to buy season tickets again any time soon, and while I will go to whatever hockey they play this season, IF they play hockey this season, because it is hockey, and that's good enough....
But they definitely destroyed any good will I had, and frankly, between Bettman, what the Dolans have done to NY sports, Glen Fucking Sather, the generally poor performance/hockey, and trading Brian Leetch, they are certainly making it VERY hard to be a Rangers fan. Let's be honest...if Messier decides to retire rather than come back, I may well just sell my tickets for whatever little I can get for them, and sit at home, lamenting what the NHL used to be.
Anyway, the press conference is about to start, and while I'm at work, I think I want to go get some lunch. There is no truth to the rumor that I am heading to the Westin New York with a rifle.
Mood: REALLY Tired
Music: Big in Japan, Alphaville
Game: World of Warcrack. (Rogue 57)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: I'll let you know tomorrow morning.
Punchline: "...and the other has to do with a Groundhog."
So it's 1:41am, and I've just finished playing World of Warcraft.
I swear I keep meaning to go to bed at 10pm. So I start winding down around 9:45pm, and before I know it, it's 1am. I get involved in "just one more quest. I just need to turn this thing in and...OOH. I wanna do that one, too!" And so it's 1am.
But that's not the reason why I'm writing. My neuroelectronic addiction is well-known and understood by anyone who knows me. No...the reason for writing right now is the letter I got from Landry.
She wrote, basically saying that the reason why she'd taken down her most fabulous blog moufaisbad (incidentally the motivation for MY blog...) is because she'd felt obligated to it...like she felt like she HAD to write, and so her nature was to rebel, and her version of saying "fuck that" was to just shut down her blog.
Yes, I noticed immediately, because I check her blog daily...and did, even when I was getting that fabulous 404 error. Why? Because even though I had dinner with her and Liz a week ago, my primary method of knowing what's going on in her head is her blog. Some awfully beautiful stuff gets/got written there. And it let me "stay in touch" with her, even as she was busy and travelling around and just didn't have time to have dinner or whatever.
Anyway, she's decided to bring the blog back up because she "started to feel like [she] was abandoning a friend because they were no longer entertaining [her] (you could be next unless you keep the cocktails flowing and for gods sake - be funny!)"
As for myself, I promise to provide cocktails (and yummy food...especially sorbet to keep the Beast at bay. The Beast likes my sorbet.)
And I am very happy she's decided to continue...because a mind like that is a terrible thing to waste. More than she's wasted it already, of course.
As she always manages to do, she inspires and reminds me of why I do the things I do...like writing in my blog...and makes me glad she's around on this planet.
I write in here for me, of course...but I also write in here for all of you. Because I don't spend enough time with any of you, at least not as much as I would like, and sometimes I don't share what I'm thinking or feeling, because I never really learned to share all that well, and sometimes I just feel like ranting at the universe, and this is a great outlet for that. Mostly, I write here because writing helps me focus my thoughts, makes me happy, and lets me share myself with all of you...even if I don't go out to dinner with all of you all that often, or don't see you enough.
I'm glad you're all here. Thank you all for being a part of my world.
Now, I'm going to bed so that Gary Fucking Bettman can cancel my hockey season tomorrow. Fucker.
Mood: Tired
Music: Open Letter to NYC, Beastie Boys
Game: World of Warcrack. (Rogue 57)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco.
Muffin: Peach-Raspberry
Punchline: "Stupid? I got one word for you. Chernobyl! How's that for stupid? Bet you were working there, you fucking asshole. Now move it, you fuckin' retard!"
First, Happy Valentines' Day to everyone out there!
Normally, I hate made holidays...like Valentines Day and whatever, but I do like a perfectly good excuse to buy presents. So there ya go. I got a really cool gift certificate from iTunes from my fookus...which I love. The gift certificate AND the fookus, actually.
Next, I want to congratulate Maria on her recent engagement. She's fabulous and I wish her the absolute very best! Visit her. By the way, she was also one of those Modem Media people. Lots of those around.
After that, my way-too-cool cousin Joma is recently in the audience, making her the only family member of mine who actually reads (knows I have?) my blog...which may be a good thing. Although, how dangerous is a blog that's primarily me whining about hockey, game playing, and my general well-being? Not much. On the other hand, if I didn't want particular people to know about it, I wouldn't exactly put it on the web, now would I?
Anyway, Joma lives in NoCal, and I don't see her nearly enough...but I'm always glad to get word from her. In fact, almost never, unless she's in New York, which is also not nearly enough. I think she'd like living here...but what do I know?
She sent me a pretty funny anecdote today, the punchline of which is my punchline of the entry, and I told her to check out my blog, which, being a great cousin, immediately did. Welcome to my underground backchannel of ranting!
This isn't much of an entry today, really...'Phyxie says that my best entries are when I get good and riled up about something. It was more informational, well-wishing, and minor housekeeping, as it were.
I will, however, leave you all with this thought:
People are infinitely more likely to be able to criticise your work than provide direction on what you ought to be doing. While painful, it is as good a way as any to advance your goals.
I need to remind myself of this on a regular basis. Especially at my job.
Mood: Still vaguely ill.
Music: Every Day Is Halloween, Ministry
Game: World of Warcraft (Rogue 54)
Book: The Name of the Rose, Umberto Eco
Muffin: Blueberry Blueberry
Punchline: "...One was a salted."
On Saturday, I decided to make a WLIR/80s playlist from iTunes.
I was feeling like I was getting tired of all the music I had on my iPod...which is no small feat...and I just didn't feel like buying CDs. Amazon has enough of my money, thank you.
So I scoured iTunes for about 3 hours, and picked about 20 songs that I didn't already have in my music collection. (Horrors! How did I not have this? Oh yeah...never replaced the vinyl.....)
I'm now listening to the list, which I have reproduced here for your own purchasing enjoyment.
Alex Chilton - The Replacements : Wasn't a huge Replacements fan until this song was released. Great chorus....
Always Something There To Remind Me - Naked Eyes : If you don't have this song on your iPod, it's because you weren't alive/conscious when it was released. Or you don't own an iPod. Definitive 80s electropop.
Birthday - Sugarcubes : Bjork at her finest...lyrically odd and vaguely disturbing. All in Icelandic Pop. One of several Sugarcubes songs that was missing from my collection. Never replaced the vinyl with a CD...or, was more probably stolen.
Bizarre Love Triangle - New Order : Nothing says 80s like New Order.
Coldsweat - Sugarcubes : Crunchy guitar riff. Feels like a blend between Icelandic Pop and Industrial. Nice mix.
Deus - Sugarcubes : Getting tired of Bjork yet? Not me.
Every Day Is Halloween - Ministry : No 80s New Wave playlist is complete without this anthem. Still have the 12" EP of this somewhere...Waxtrax.
Everybody Knows - Concrete Blonde : Definitely not a song to be played during a breakup...except that I did. Over and over. Some people prefer the Leonard Cohen version...I prefer this one sometimes...
Everybody Knows - Leonard Cohen : And sometimes I prefer this one. Did Nick Cave ever cover this song?
Friday I'm In Love - Cure : Robert Smith sounds...happy? Fabulous tune and great lyrics make this a cheery song in my book.
I Got You - Split Enz : I - Don't - Know - Why - Some - Times - I - Get - Fright - Ened...
Institutionalized - Suicidal Tendencies : Was lead to this one off the Repo Man soundtrack...even though I had seen these guys live twice before the movie. Weird. Anyway, all Mike wanted was a Pepsi. Just one Pepsi.
Mama - Sugarcubes : Bet you thought I was done with the Sugarcubes. Nope. Life's Too Good should have been called Album Too Good.
Motorcrash - Sugarcubes : Sorry. I promise I'll stop.
Nemesis - Shriekback : This is that song that you know by heart and had no idea what the title was. Catchy as hell and the woman in the background of the chorus singing in an opera falsetto is awesome.
No New Tale To Tell - Love and Rockets : When you're down, it's a long way up...when you're up, it's a long way down... Probably the best explanation of the teenage psyche I've ever heard. And I was definitely feeling it in High School.
Smalltown Boy - Bronski Beat : Euro-electronica. Catchy beat, the clearly defined keyboards...lyrically strong. I love this song.
Step to the Rear - Brand Nubian : Released in 1990...so technically not 80s music. But the delivery and lyrics here, plus the sampled riffs were so great, I had to include it.
What's On Your Mind (Pure Energy) - Information Society : Should be included in every 80s playlist as well. If you'd asked me who sang this, I couldn't have told you until I downloaded it. But I definitely had this on a compilation somewhere....
I also have to admit I threw in some more recent stuff that I wanted at the time....
But this is the heart of the playlist. Go on...download it. You know you want to.
Mood: Headachy
Music: Someday, Nickleback
Game: World of Warcraft (53 Rogue)
Book: Diamond Age, Neal Stephenson
Muffin: Pumpkin Apple Walnut
Punchline: "I'm Positive."
ESPN.com is now reporting that the NHL will officially cancel the season on Friday.
Anyone who's been following any of this could have predicted this outcome way back in October...and you can read my blogs about that, as well in my archive, if you so choose.
So why am I even writing about it?
Because I am absolutely furious with this situation. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out how a group of moronic people who, for the most part can't even skate, managed to completely grind my way of life to a halt.
You will never convince me, ever, that "cost-certainty" placed in a collective bargaining agreement is anything other than an attempt to legalize behavior that, in any other business anywhere in the US, is illegal.
It's idiotic. You expect your workers to guarantee that you will not lose money, and return money that is due to them in their contracts if you fail to run your business successfully.
And, if the league, who has unquestionably and repeatedly lied (or just plain doesn't know due to incompetence) about their revenues, cannot convince a very pissed off fanbase that hockey is worth watching again after being treated like this, then it's the players that get to pay the price by lowering their salaries.
I'll say it again and again. I do not know any business that has an organization around it that guarantees that it cannot lose money due to incompetence.
The concept of cost-certainty is one of discipline...not enforcement. If you don't have a thousand dollars, don't spend a thousand dollars. If you do have it, you should be able to spend it, not be forced to pocket it, or worse, be forced to give it to someone else who doesn't spend it as wisely as you did.
The idea that someone is going to give owners what effectively amounts to a bat to not spend money on their employees is ridiculous. Couple that with a cap ceiling that basically says "If we make x amount, you make this percent, but if we make 10 times that, you make this percent...up to this much money."
This is me saying I will lower your salary if I make less money than I promise, but if I make MORE money than I promise, you don't get that...you get what you're getting now plus a bit more.
Oh, did I mention that all this includes only on-ice revenues? Which means that concessions, franchise fees, licensing, parking, and other related revenues don't count when determining if a team made money or not? I love that.
At the end of it all, what it really means is that I don't get to watch hockey, and whatever happiness me and millions of others got on a daily basis has been stolen by people who can't balance their checkbooks.
The NHL is fond of posting that picture of those two kids who were holding up a sign that says "Mr. Bettman, we'll play for free."
Here's one for you: "Mr. Bettman, I'll run a team for you for free." Give me a team, and I guarantee you I'll make money.
Because I can count.
At least Madison Square Garden and that fucker Dolan will be returning my season ticket money. Which they've been earning interest on. Lovely.